Elantris

much it bothered the larger man to have the books exposed to the slime and dirt of Elantris.

'That should be all right,' Raoden said. None of the other books were about AonDor, and while some of them were journals or other records that could hold clues, Raoden suspected that none of them would be as useful as the one in front of him. Assuming he could translate it successfully.

Galladon nodded and began gathering up the books; then he looked upward apprehensively as he heard a scraping sound from the roof. Galladon was convinced

that sooner or later the entire assemblage would collapse and. inevitably, fall on his shiny dark head.

'Don't worry so much, Galladon,' Raoden said. 'Maare and Riil know what they're doing.'

Galladon frowned. 'No they don't. sule. I seem to recall that neither of them had any idea what to do before you pressed them into it.'

'I meant that they're eompetent.' Raoden looked up with satisfaction. Six days of working had completed a large portion of the roof. Mareshe had devised a claylike combination of wood scraps. soiI, and the ever-prevalent Elantris sludge. This mixture, when added to the fallen support beams and some less-rotted sections of cloth, had provided materials to make a ceiling that was, if nor superior, at least adequate.

Raoden smiled. The pain and hunger were always there, but things were going so well that he could almost forget the pain of his half-dozen bumps and cuts. Through the window to his right he could see the newest member of his band, Loren. The man worked in the large area beside the church that had probably once been a garden. According to Raoden's orders, and equipped with a newly fashioned pair of leather gloves, Loren moved rocks and cleared away refuse, revealing the soft dirt underneath.

'What good is that going to do?' Galladon asked, following Raoden's gaze out the window.

'You'll see,' Raoden said with a secretive smile.

Galladon huffed as he picked up an armload of books and left the chapel. The Dula had been right about one thing: They could not count on new Elantrians being thrown into the city as fast as Raoden had first anticipated. Before Loren's arrival the day before, five solid days had passed without even a quiver from the city gates. Raoden had been very fortunate to find Mareshe and the others in such a short period of time.

`Lord Spirit?' a hesitant voice asked.

Raoden looked up at the chapel's doorway to find an unfamiliar man waiting to be acknowledged. He was thin. with a stooped-over form and an air of practiced subservience. Raoden couldn't tell his age for certain: the Shaod tended to make everyone look much older than they really were. However, he had the feeling that this man's age was no illusion. If his head had held any hair. then it would have been white, and his skin had been long wrinkled before the Shaod took him.

'Yes?' Raoden asked with interest. 'What can I do for you?'

'My lord…' the man began.

'Go on,' Raoden prodded.

'Well, Your Lordship, I've just heard some things, and I was wondering if I could join with you.'

Raoden smiled. rising and walking over to the man. 'Certainly, you may join us. What have you heard?'

'Well…' The aged Elantrian fidgeted nervously. 'Some people on the streets say that those who follow you aren't as hungry. They say you have a secret that makes the pain go away. I've been in EIantris for nearly a year now, my lord, and my injuries are almost too much. I figured I could either give you a chance, or go find myseIf a gutter and join the Hoed.'

Raoden nodded, clasping the man on the shoulder. He could still feel his toe burning-he was growing used to the pain, but it was still there. It was accompanied by a gnawing from his stomach. 'I'm glad you came. What is your name?'

'Kahar, my lord.'

'All right then. Kahar, what did you do before the Shaod took you?'

Kahar's eyes grew unfocused. as if his mind were traveling back to a time long ago. 'I was a cleaner of some sort, my lord. I think I washed streets.'

'Perfect! I've been waiting for one of your particular skill. Mareshe, are you back there?'

'Yes, my lord.' the spindly artisan called from one of the rooms in the back. His head poked out a moment later.

'By chance. did those traps you set up catch any of last night's rainfall?' 'Of course, my lord,' Mareshe said indignantly.

'Good. Show Kahar here where the water is.'

'Certainly.' Mareshe motioned for Kahar to follow.

'What am I to do with water, my lord?' Kahar asked.

'It is time that we stopped living in filth, Kahar,' Raoden said. 'This slime that covers Elantris can be cleaned off: I've seen a place where it was done. Take your time and don't strain yourself, bur clean this building inside and out. Scrape away every bit of slime and wash off every hint of dirt.'

'Then you will show me the secret?' Kahar asked hopefully.

'Trust me.'

Kahar nodded, following Mareshe from the room. Raoden's smile faded as the man left. He was finding that the most difficult part of leadership here in Elantris was maintaining the attitude of optimism that Galladon teased him about. These people, even the newcomers, were dangerously close to losing hope. They thought that they were damned. and assumed that nothing could save their souls from rotting away like Elantris itself. Raoden had to overcome years of conditioning teamed with the ever-present forces of pain and hunger.

He had never considered himself an overly cheerful person. Here in Elantris, however, Raoden found himself reacting to the air of despair with defiant optimism. The worse things got, the more determined he was to take it on without complaint. But the forced cheerfulness took its toll. He could feel the others, even Galladon. relying on him. Of all the people in Elantris, only Raoden couldn't let his pain show. The hunger gnawed at his chest like a horde of insects trying to

escape from within, and the pain of several injuries beat at his resolve with merciless determination.

He wasn't sure how long he would last. After barely a week and a half in Elantris, he was already in so much pain it was sometimes difficult to focus. How long would it be before he couldn't function at all? Or, how long before he was reduced to the subhuman level of Shaor's men? One question was more frightening than them all. When he fell, how many people would fall with him?

And yet. he had to bear the weight. If he didn't accept the responsibility, no one else would-and these people would become slaves either to their own agony or to the buIlies on the streets. Elantris needed him. If it used him up, then so be it.

'Lord Spirit!' called a frantic voice.

Raoden looked as a worried Saolin rushed into the room. The hook-nosed mercenary had fashioned a spear from a piece of only half-rotten wood and a sharp stone, and had taken to patrolling the area around the chapel. The man's scarred Elantrian face was wrinkled with concern.

'What is it, Saolin?' Raoden asked, alarmed. The man was an experienced warrior, and was not easily unsettled.

'A group of armed men coming this way, my lord. I counted twelve of them, and they are carrying steel weapons.'

'Steel?' Raoden said. 'In Elantris? I wasn't aware that there was any to be found.'

'They're coming quickly. my lord.' Saolin said. 'What do we do-they're almost here.'

'They are here,' Raoden said as a group of men forced their way through the chapel's open doorway. Saolin was right several carried steel weapons, though the blades were chipped and rusted. The group was a dark-eyed, unpleasant lot, and at their lead was a familiar figure-or, at least. familiar from a distance.

'Karata,' Raoden said. Loren should have been hers the other day, but Rao-den had stolen him. Apparently, she had come to make a complaint. It had only been a matter of time.

Raoden glanced toward Saolin, who was inching forward as if anxious to try his makeshift spear. 'Stand your ground, Saolin,' Raoden commanded.

Karata was completely bald. a gift from the Shaod, and she had been in the city long enough that her skin was beginning to wrinkle. However, she held herself with a proud face and determined eyes-the eyes of a person who hadn't given in to the pain, and who wasn't going to do so any time soon. She wore a dark outfit composed of torn leather-for Elantris, it was well made.